


Drowning

by Maisie_Namara



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisie_Namara/pseuds/Maisie_Namara
Summary: Anne had always hated swimming. It felt too much like drowning, sinking, where she would never be heard from again. That is, until she met Phillip Carlyle.





	1. Chapter 1

Anne awakes in a sweat, clutching the thin sheet of her cotton blanket, gasping for breath. Her dream replays. Sinking, drowning, freezing. Ice burns in her mind. She can still see the water freezing over above her as she sank lower, pulled by an invisible force. Deeper. She’s always hated water, preferring to stay over people’s heads, flying by without a trace. The ground she’ll tolerate, but any deeper and she suffocates. In air, there is freedom, there is safety, there is no one to hurt her. 

The sun has just begun to break the horizon, pink splitting through the indigo. She won’t be able to sleep anymore, she needs to be up high, to pull as far as she can away from drowning. She goes downstairs to the stage, wrapping her hands and feet quickly. As she pulls herself up, she feels free. She is away from everyone, no one can reach her. Not even W.D. risks coming up this high, on the smallest ropes at the top of the dome. She’s light, and they don’t snap under her weight. She spins and flips, pulling herself as high as she can before securing a rope and jumping, trusting the rope to catch her. It always does. The constant in her life when everything else falls away. She’s not sure how long she’s up there, she just knows that too soon W.D. is coaxing her down for breakfast. She drops and lands lightly beside him, silently. He says nothing and hands her a few pieces of toast. 

“Eat.” He urges. She knows she’ll need the strength for today’s show. She eats quickly, wanting to climb again. The dream is still gripping her, trying to pull her down. As soon as she’s finished she’s bounding up the platform again, this time W.D. is just behind her. She knows she can’t go as high this time, that she needs to stay with him. She can’t break off again. They go through their routine so many times she loses count, but the feeling of flying is always in her stomach. 

That night, under the cotton candy wig and purple sequins, the feeling is still there, and she is flying over the crowd, their gasps and whispers adoring, not contemptuous. She pulls her torso up on the ring, arching her back. She looks up, expecting to see the muted reds of the balcony. Instead, ice flashes before her. Her heart leaps to her throat and then she is falling again, sinking, drowning.  
After her costume is off, she collapses onto her bed, the ice still on her mind. It wasn’t ice, though. It couldn’t have been. She’s too tired to go over it, however, and falls asleep quickly, ice consuming her dreams again. But this time, the ice seems to form for her. She is dancing on it. Spinning and flying along it, and it freezes under her feet to keep her from drowning.

The next day, she finds that the ice belongs to Mr. Phillip Carlyle. His eyes pierce hers the second they meet, and she has the same feeling of sinking. But for the first time, it doesn’t seem as scary as it was. His eyes are icy and frozen, and he’s hiding behind them.   
“Everyone’s got an act.” His is just hidden. He doesn’t believe her. She walks away before he can argue.   
The next time she sees him, his frosty gaze is shining with another emotion. She can’t see clearly though, because he turns away in a second. That night, she visits glaciers.

 

They're going to see the Queen! Her heart erupts at his announcement momentarily before she realizes his exact words.  
“Are we all invited, Mister Carlyle?” She stands up. The chatter hushes instantly.  
“I’ll tell her all of us go or none of us go.” His gaze is backed by determination this time. She smiles as the chatter resumes, and her heart is flying, and she is consumed with the urge to be flying too, so she sneaks off and goes to practice. The ice can’t reach her up there. Whispers and stares and sneers are left behind, and she feels herself lifting, and this is why she loves flying.


	2. Chapter 2

In two weeks’ time, they’re boarding the ship. Two to a cabin. Lettie and she are bunkmates, but Lettie doesn’t enjoy being inside. Says she enjoys the salty air. Anne goes above deck too. The cabin is suffocating, too close to the water. She climbs up the crow’s nest, watching the sun slip under the water and New York fade off the horizon. She hears someone climbing up after her but doesn’t tear her eyes off the horizon, now only displaying a muted orange, pressed under the indigo. As the last ray disappears, she turns her head and is confronted with ice. Her breath catches before she calms herself.  
“Good evening, Mister Carlyle.”   
“Phillip. Please.” He says, standing next to her on the edge of the crow’s nest. “You missed dinner, Miss Wheeler.”  
“Anne. Please.” She mimics. His mouth twitches.  
“So, Anne, are you ready to meet the Queen of England?” He asks.   
“Yes. She just might not be ready to meet us.”  
“She invited us.”  
“You pulled strings.”  
“She agreed. She knew what that entailed.” He argues. She falls silent, studying him. She shivers, and his eyes flash cold for a second before he takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders.  
“You didn’t-” He cuts her off by wrapping it more securely around her.   
“You should eat. It’s late.” He helps her down from the crow’s nest, catching her as she jumps off the ladder and setting her down carefully.   
“Where is the food?” She asks, looking around.  
“Down below. In the kitchen.” This time it’s her eyes that flash. His brow furrows.  
“Is that a problem?” Her breath has hitched in her throat. “Would you like me to bring it to you?” He offers. She nods gratefully and goes to take off his jacket. He shakes his head and disappears below deck. 

It falls into a quiet pattern. He brings her food up in the crow’s nest, and she thanks him, and at first he leaves, then lingers longer and longer before one night, he brings up two dishes. Her eyes spark with confusion before he sets them both down and lowers himself next to her. She can hardly say anything, he’s been polite and accommodating.   
He doesn’t want anything. He stays quiet as he eats and then clears their plates, disappearing under the deck once again. She doesn’t see him until sundown the next day, and then he’s distant and dances around her. She has no time to focus, however, as England draws closer.

One day, she can see it breaking the skyline from the crow’s nest. She’s up there earlier than usual. She flies down the ladder.  
“England! It’s on the horizon!” She shouts. Everyone turns, running to the bow of the boat. Phillip appears from below deck.  
“What’s going on?”   
“I saw England!” Anne’s eyes light up, and she grabs his wrist in unrestrained excitement. He laughs and follows her. She pulls him to the bow of the boat, pointing England out gleefully. The Oddities are cheering, and Tom almost falls over the rail, and Anne is smiling so broadly it looks as though her face may split in two.   
“Not long now.” Phillip says, his eyes trained on Anne’s childlike expression. W.D. is smiling at her too, and she runs to him. They start humming. Lettie does too. She starts singing the words quietly, the others joining in soon after. 

W.D. twirls Anne and Lettie is belting the song out at the top of her lungs. Everyone is spinning and laughing. Anne opens her eyes as W.D. spins her, and sees Phillip watching them, standing still. She twirls away from W.D. and towards Phillip. He catches her an arm’s length away and spins her again. This time she twirls into his chest, and he holds her tightly. She feels the wood under her feet, and sees her family dancing, and she remembers why she tolerates being on the ground. 

Up in the air she can be alone and free, but here she can be with others. If she didn’t have them she’d never come down. But the feeling in her stomach as she turns back to Phillip’s penetrating gaze reminds her why she dislikes water. She is falling, she is helpless, and it’s impossible to pull herself out. But here, she is safe, and so she stays on the ground that night, dancing and singing and laughing. 

She’s up in the crow’s nest at dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

Jenny Lind. A beautiful singer, but Anne is not impressed. Or perhaps, she has a bad memory every time she hears that song.   
He let go of her. A small gesture, of course, but not meaningless. A couple from his ranks saw them, perhaps he even knew them, and he let go of her in front of them. It seems he’ll defend her across seas only. She can feel a sob trying to escape her throat, but she will not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.   
She leaves.  
He doesn’t follow her.  
The trapeze catches her in her spiral downwards. She is flying through the air but can feel the weight of his eyes pulling her down, sinking under the floor. As she swings low, she falls.  
It’s not a bad fall, she wasn’t too high up. Her pride is more injured than her body. She touches her hip, wincing slightly. It will be bruised by tomorrow, but she has bigger concerns. She can feel the ice threatening to overtake her, and she knows she needs to be done with it. Him. Everything.   
So, the next day, when he tries to apologize, she walks away and leaves him in the dark. For three weeks she won’t look at him or talk to him. It’s only when P.T. pleads that she act neutral towards him because the crowds are starting to wonder that she looks at him.   
One night, after two weeks, he catches her and begs her to give him another chance. She snaps at him and pulls away, trying to escape falling, but he grabs her again and begs forgiveness. She collapses and he does too, apologizing until his voice is hoarse. She doesn’t have the energy to fight, but she doesn’t forgive him. She bears spending time with him, answering civilly to any questions he asks and listening to his direction. Until, that is, when he tells her what she should do on the trapeze.   
“That’s not your concern, Mister Carlyle. The trapeze is my act. I suggest you focus on your own.” Her voice is laced with sugar and poison. After that, they don’t talk. He still tries sometimes, notes even showing up in her dressing room, but she ignores them. She sees the pain in his eyes the day he found them at the bottom of the waste basket.  
One day, P.T. tells her he bought a ticket for the theatre that Friday, but that he couldn’t make it because Caroline has ballet. Yes, of course she would love the ticket. She’s always wanted to go to the theatre. She has a dress her Mama left her, and she buttons it up, the skirt pulling her onto the ground, anchoring her. She pins her hair up. She feels dignified, but a childlike excitement is growing in her chest. When she gets there, two tickets are handed to her, and she tries to give one back.   
“There’s only supposed to be one.” She argues. And then she understands.She can feel his eyes boring into her as he approaches, ashamed. A clever plan.  
“I wasn’t sure you’d come if I asked.” She certainly wouldn’t have. His eyes are glistening in regret. “Just one night.”  
“I’ve always wanted to go the theatre.” She muses. It’s no use fighting with him. He offers his arm and she takes it. She sees the couple from Jenny’s performance walking down the staircase, and averts her eyes. They stop, as does Phillip. Anne wants to keep going, but Phillip is pulling her under. She’s sinking, and wants nothing more than to run off and fly up, out of their reach. Away from the disdain and assault and hatred. They’re his parents.  
“...the help.” The rest of it isn’t as important, that’s for Phillip. Only part of it is directed at her. That’s the final straw. She turns and runs. Phillip’s voice echoes in the hall, shouting her name. She runs back to the circus, unpinning her hair and stripping off the dress. Her curly hair tumbles past her shoulders and her skin is free. As she’s wrapping her hands, he shows up. He insists their opinions don’t matter to him, and he reaches for her.   
“You’ve never had someone look at you the way they looked at me. The way everyone would look at us.” She pulls away, trying to get herself higher. He tells her of course he wants her, that he doesn’t care what they think, but she stays out of his reach, off the ground.   
Up here, no one can catch her. Until he does. He leaps from the balcony and clings onto her, and they land, and she’s drowning in his eyes, in his empty promises. Her salvation is intruded upon, and she prepares to tell him so. However, once she looks at him, she is cast into the sea, sinking, suffocating. She pushes his hand off her waist but the sinking feeling remains, pulling her under. She climbs up on the roof to escape, but her feet are fixed to the floor. She pulls herself up by her arms, feeling the cool wind on her face, and she is free, up in the heavens. That night, the ice is clawing at her as she flies higher.


	4. Chapter 4

Embers erupt from the bottom of the building. She is in her dressing room, and smells the smoke before she steps out. A single live coal has landed on the floor in front of her, burning a small hole through the floor. She flies downstairs before she can think about it, the flames roaring behind her. She can feel the heat beckoning her as she flings herself into W.D.’s arms outside. But when her eyes sweep the crowd, the ice she’s come to expect is gone. P.T. runs inside, his coat dropping on the ground behind him. Embers claim it instantly. She can hear someone screaming. When P.T. carries Phillip out of the building, her voice is hoarse. It was her.

 

For two weeks, she doesn’t fly. She is not even on the ground. She is sinking, but for the first time in months it is not because of the ice. This time, she longs for the ice. She longs for his piercing gaze to make her melt again. She doesn’t leave his side. W.D. brings her food every day, and P.T. sits with her one day, Lettie another. They all sit with her, but they leave in time. They go home to their beds and food and family. They all pooled their money to buy a house together, and they stay there. She imagines they’re laughing and dancing, their merriness untainted by Phillip’s current state.   
One day, Caroline and Helen sit with her. She’s not surprised when they walk in, they come occasionally with Charity. She’s surprised when they stay, even more so when Charity leaves, claiming that P.T. needs her now. She’ll be back by sundown, she promises. Anne smiles at the young girls, who stand far away from her and Phillip cautiously. She can’t blame them, really. She must look crazy. She hasn’t brushed her hair or slept enough since the fire, soot still coating her face. Her eyes are rimmed red from crying. She smiles gently at them, trying to put them at ease. Helen cocks her head before stepping closer. She looks at Anne for assurance that she isn’t intruding on something private. Anne waves her closer.  
“Why would he do that?” Helen’s voice is small, timid. She hasn’t talked much to Helen before, but has always loved the excitable young girls who watch the performers as much as they can. She’s caught them practicing the choreography privately, and she sees them spinning on the edge of the circus at performances. They’ve always stared at her sequins and wig. “Why would he run into the fire after he’d gotten out?” Helen clarifies, Anne taking too long to answer.  
“Because he thought I was still in there.” She says, gripping Phillip’s hand more tightly.  
“But you weren’t. You came out a second later.” Helen insists.  
“He didn’t know that.” Anne says. “He did a courageous thing, he risked his life for me.”   
“But you aren’t family.” Caroline walks up behind her sister. She pulls up chairs for herself and Helen. Helen sits down, her eyes trained on Anne.  
“You don’t have to be family to love someone.” Caroline says. “Lettie would have done the same for us.”  
“Because she’s our friend.” Helen says. “You and Phillip weren’t friends, were you?”  
“Well, no. But he wanted to be. He wanted us to be like your mom and dad.”  
“So why weren’t you?” This question stings. The girl’s intent is clear, innocent, but Anne chokes. Her eyes burn. Helen’s eyes widen and Caroline turns to her, silently reprimanding.  
“Because- because I pushed him away. He loved me and I pushed him away.” Tears roll down Anne’s cheeks.   
“You loved him back, though. Why did you push him away?” Helen asks, shifting closer.   
“How did you know that?” She can’t bring herself to drop his hand, but her grip loosens.   
“Because everyone else is home, where it’s warm and they’re comfortable, but you’re sitting in a hospital where people are staring at you and you aren’t sleeping. I haven’t seen you let go of his hand for over a week.” She says slowly. “Anne, why are people staring? You’re not in your costume or on your trapeze.”   
“Because people who are different get looked at when they go places. They get teased or… or hurt, because people are afraid of what’s different, like Lettie.”   
“That’s not okay. You’re just trying to sit with your boyfriend.”   
“Okay, he’s not my boyfriend.” Anne raises her eyebrow.   
“But he will be when he wakes up.” Caroline says, smiling.  
“I hope so.”   
“Can I be a flower girl in your wedding?” Helen asks. Anne laughs.   
“That is a conversation for another time.” Phillip gasps softly. Anne’s head snaps toward him and she leans closer, gripping his hand more tightly. Caroline and Helen fall silent, letting her fuss over him, running her fingers over his face, fluttering down to his chest at one point, where it hovers carefully before landing delicately. Her face relaxes momentarily before her brow knits in worry again. She bites her lip. His heart is beating too fast.  
“Can we do anything to help?” Caroline asks quietly. Anne shakes her head, eyes trained on Phillip. She exhales and her eyes jerk up.   
“No, no. He’s okay, I think.”   
“Why were you worried, then?” Helen asks.  
“His heart was beating really fast.”  
“I heard one girl in my class say that happens when you’re near someone you like. Maybe he knew it was you.” Caroline offers. Anne smiles.  
“I doubt that.” Anne laughs.   
“Why is there still soot on his face?” Helen asks.   
“Yeah. Why haven’t the nurses cleaned it off?” Caroline agrees.  
“They don’t want to interrupt me, I guess.” Anne says.  
“We’ll get some soap and you can do it.” Caroline says.  
“Do you want us to ask Mom to bring you some clothes, too? And food?” Helen adds.  
“That would be nice. Thank you, girls.” Anne smiles at them as they leave. She turns to Phillip. His face is bloody, and he has a black eye. Soot still stains his clothes and face. She’s been worried to clean his face, nervous that she might scare him in whatever world he’s in right now. Caroline and Helen’s arrival draws her out of her thoughts. They hand her the soapy cloth silently. With one hand, she gently rubs it over his brow, the soot coming off easily. She carefully cleans his face, then his arms and hands. He’s still bruised and cut, but he looks better. Healthier, almost. Almost.  
“Thank you girls, really.”  
“What else can we do?” Caroline asks. Anne’s stomach rumbles in response. The girls all laugh, and Helen excuses herself to run downstairs to the cafeteria.   
“You know, he really does like you.” Caroline sits down next to Anne. “Sometimes, when our parents were out, he would watch us. We would watch the rehearsals, and he always stared at you. His eyes would light up, and he looked like he was watching fireworks on Independence Day.” Anne smiles.   
“Really?”  
“Really. And he would say ‘do you see that girl up there?’ and we would say yes, and he would say ‘look at her, look at how she moves. Do you see how beautiful she is?’”   
“No!” Anne laughs.  
“Yes. And later, after the show, we would ask what he was thinking about- he’s always so quiet then- and he would say you. He would say that you did something so amazing that night, but you didn’t know you did. Helen asked him once if he was going to marry you. He said yes, and that she could be the flower girl at your wedding.”  
“He did, now?” Anne raises her eyebrow.  
“Oh!” Caroline covers her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”   
“No, I’m glad you did.” Anne says, looking down at Phillip.  
“Don’t tell him I told you, please!”   
“I can’t promise anything, I’m sorry Caroline.”   
“No!” Caroline squeals. And they sit there, teasing and laughing, and Helen comes back with food. They laugh louder as the night comes, and Charity comes and laughs with them for a little, before chiding the girls that they had to sleep, to get ready to help their dad with the circus.   
As promised, she brings clothes for Anne the next morning. Soon after that, his fingers move a little, and she gasps. His eyes open, and she is drowning in their blueness, but now, drowning makes her feel alive. Because she’s found that it’s not terrifying. She can pull herself into the air whenever she wants, and his ice blue eyes watch her from the ground. There will always be a safety net. So she kisses him, and it’s salty with tears and they are both smiling like fools as they kiss, and she clutches to him for life, sinking quickly, but it’s okay. Because as long as there is love, drowning is painless.   
Their relationship is air and water. One minute she is flying in the heavens, powerful and strong, and the next she is sinking with him, helpless. But it isn’t scary anymore. Because she knows he will protect her, won’t let her suffocate. He’ll encourage her to rise again. So, at the end of practice, after she is done flying, when she looks into his eyes and he holds her close, she thinks maybe drowning isn’t so bad.


End file.
